modern, pining
The quiet is maddening. It’s no perfect silence, as there is the distant hum of the hardware in the kitchen and crickets outside. But! To Charlie, the silence is overbearing.
Usually now, they’d be chatting about nothing in particular. Books, maybe. Something that they spied throughout the day. Thinking about dinner. Tonight, though, Charlie is alone.
And he has been for the past month.
And he will be for the next few months.
She had to rush off, her skills in high demand, and he stayed behind. It seemed such an easy thought before now.
He haunts his own home as he paces and tidies and fidgets about, starting to wonder if perhaps he should simply start spending more time at work. Things here just aren’t the same. There’s no reason for him to come home.
Home isn’t this empty apartment.
Home is her.